


softly, as in a morning sunrise

by sinfulchihuahua0602



Series: love-drunk waiting on a miracle [2]
Category: The Magnus Archives (Podcast)
Genre: Archives Polycule, Bisexual Tim Stoker (The Magnus Archives), Fluff, Gen, M/M, Pining, Polyamorous Martin Blackwood/Sasha James/Jonathan "Jon" Sims | The Archivist/Tim Stoker, Pre-Relationship, S1 Polycule, Trauma
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-02-25
Updated: 2021-03-16
Packaged: 2021-03-15 22:42:19
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,669
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29691048
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sinfulchihuahua0602/pseuds/sinfulchihuahua0602
Summary: the hot one 12:16 p.m.who wants to go shoppingthe cute one 12:28 p.m.I can go with you. There’s a bookstore I want to look at that just opened.the hot one 12:31 p.m.well then come on, ill pick you up in ten minutes?the cute one 12:32 p.m.Alright.
Relationships: Jonathan "Jon" Sims | The Archivist/Tim Stoker
Series: love-drunk waiting on a miracle [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2180805
Comments: 3
Kudos: 49





	1. at the back of a bookshop

**Author's Note:**

> yes I am shamelessly naming the bookshop the rusty quill and referencing all four of their podcasts, what about it

**the hot one 12:16 p.m.**

_ who wants to go shopping _

**the best one 12:16 p.m.**

_ where would we go? _

**the hot one 12:17 p.m.**

_ no idea _

**12:17 p.m.**

_ there’s stores around we can find _

**the pretty one 12:18 p.m.**

_ you mean there’s pubs you want to go to and then some stores we’ll spend hours in and then you’ll get us all drunk at a bar _

**the hot one 12:18 p.m.**

_ exactly! sounds like a great day to me _

**the best one 12:18 p.m.**

_ sorry today i set aside for me to relax and look after my mother _

**the hot one 12:19 p.m.**

_ valid. sasha? _

**the pretty one 12:19 p.m.**

_ nope. busy.  _

**the hot one 12:20 p.m.**

_ rip. jon? _

**the cute one 12:28 p.m.**

_ I can go with you. There’s a bookstore I want to look at that just opened.  _

**the pretty one 12:28 p.m.**

_ the rusty quill? _

**the cute one 12:29 p.m.**

_ Yes.  _

**the pretty one 12:30 p.m.**

_ they have some really good books on DnD gaming _

**the hot one 12:30 p.m.**

_ and an extensive horror and space collection from what i’ve heard  _

**the cute one 12:31 p.m.**

_ I’m hoping for some history books.  _

**the hot one 12:31 p.m.**

_ well then come on, ill pick you up in ten minutes? _

**the cute one 12:32 p.m.**

_ Alright.  _

///

Tim pulls up in front of Jon’s small apartment with two coffees in the passenger seat. He’s dressed in his flashiest coat and jeans, and he waits with a grin for Jon to come out and see it. Jon always makes a big fuss about his clothes and-

Tim’s grin widens as Jon steps out of his apartment building and he can see the bright colors from here, a frown appearing on his face as he walks closer. 

“Something wrong, boss?” Tim asks innocently when Jon slides into the seat beside him, moving the coffees to his lap. 

“We’re not in work, Tim,” Jon starts off tiredly, and then- he has a whole list of things, Tim thinks amusedly- “and you know what’s wrong. I don’t drink coffee, either. You know that as well.”

“I do,” Tim says as he starts driving. “But you can’t stop me in any of those things, and you drink coffee sometimes. I got the flavor you like.”

Jon sighs. Tim grins at his victory and keeps driving as Jon picks up his coffee, checking the flavor, and then starts drinking it. 

The drive is in comfortable silence, Tim stealing drinks at stoplights - to Jon’s irritated sighs when he gets honked at for not going fast enough - and Jon drinking his coffee a lot quicker than his supposed dislike suggested. Tim pulls up near the bookshop, a little ways down the street, and steps out of the car. 

Jon follows him to the sidewalk, both of them throwing out their coffee cups, and then Jon puts his hands in his coat pockets and shivers. 

“Already cold?” Tim asks, looking down at Jon. “That has got to be a new record.”

Jon’s shoulders hunch in his coat and he glances down and away. “I’m not  _ cold,  _ Tim. It’s the wind.”

Tim rolls his eyes, pulling the door open for Jon. “Whatever you say, boss - but I’ve known you for four years. Can’t hide anything from me.”

Jon sighs, stepping inside the bookshop. Tim follows him, the bell on the door ringing above them as it opens and closes with a gust of wind, and Tim stops behind Jon just inside the shop. 

“Well?” Tim asks. 

Jon looks down. “I- uh,” he starts hesitantly. His eyes flick to the history section, then he looks up at Tim. “Is there anything you want to…?”

Tim sighs. “Jon,” he says quietly, firmly. “It’s been four years. You can go to whatever section you’d like. You know I’m not going to stop you.”

Jon averts his eyes again. Tim silently curses whoever hurt Jon in the past, insulted his interests and quirks enough to make him so guarded, even against Tim. They’ve been working on Jon’s habit of putting others’ needs before his own for all four years Tim has known him, letting him infodump as much as he’d like and listening intently. Tim doesn’t want Jon to feel like however he did before - and he finds the infodumping endearing, a little, when Jon gets really excited about something and he gestures with his hands, his face so expressive and open. Tim loves watching him when he’s like that. 

“Yeah, I- sorry,” Jon says awkwardly, still not looking up at Tim. He turns quickly to the history section, walking over to it and scanning the shelves. Tim follows with a small sigh - someday, Jon will be unapologetic about his interests, and won’t apologize for having them. He hopes he’s around for that. 

The library is more of a maze than actually organized, with the signs leading in bizarre directions. The history section has a large sign with an open book as its backdrop, three of the letters on one page and four on the other, and smaller signs denoting shelves of different authors and topics as the shelves weave and twist into corners and dead-ends. 

Jon gives a cursory glance at the sign, then heads into the maze. Tim watches his shoulders relax, head turning up to the shelves to scan the titles, and a small smile curls Tim’s mouth as he watches Jon focus on the books. 

He puts his hands in his pockets and simply watches - he hasn’t  _ much  _ interest in books, though he will read some drama or romance occasionally. He’s not someone who reads for hours on end for enjoyment like Jon, though. 

No, there’s another reason that Tim loves going to bookshops with Jon - and it’s to see this:

Jon turns to one of the shelves, pulling down a book. Tim leans back against a pillar. Jon’s glance is sharp as it skims the title, then he flips open the book, searching for the summary, and his dark eyes scan the words. 

He alights on something, apparently, because Jon’s gaze flicks back up to the shelves and he trails his fingers along the spines near the one he pulled out, stopping on one and pulling that out. Tim sees a large, gold-printed  _ 2  _ on the spine, and his smile widens as he sees Jon track down four of the series, flipping between them quickly and trying to deem them worthy of reading. 

The decision is, apparently, unworthy - Jon’s brow furrows at something in the third book and he frowns, putting all four of them back in their spots. 

“Damn,” Tim remarks, pushing off the shelves as Jon turns to venture deeper into the maze. “That bad you rejected all four?”

“Historical inaccuracies,” Jon says shortly, distantly as he stops by another shelf and pulls down another book. 

Tim smiles. “Hm,” he replies seriously, knowing exactly how this goes, and watches Jon get lost in another dilemma between five entirely separate books. 

“ _ Why _ ,” Jon starts, flipping the book he was holding closed and shelving it several minutes later, “do people put the wrong books in the wrong spots?”

Tim looks up from the historical romance novel he’s looking at and raises an eyebrow. “What is it now, boss?”

Jon rolls his eyes, turning to another shelf. “I want  _ history,  _ Tim, not  _ fantasy.” _

Tim’s eyebrow raises higher. “Never would’ve guessed,” he says dryly, and smirks at the look Jon shoots him. 

“Very funny,” Jon deadpans, pulling out another book. 

Tim grins and closes his book. “Jon, you should know I’m  _ hilarious.  _ I thought we’d established this?”

“Unfortunately,” Jon says, but the syllables trail off at the end as his eyes scan a book summary and he adds it to the pile of two books he already has in his arms. 

Tim walks over, already reaching out as Jon looks up at him. “Can you-“

Jon’s eyes flick down to Tim’s hands as they reach out and his mouth twitches in a fleeting smile before he looks back up at Tim. “I’m really that predictable?”

Tim shrugs. “Known you for four years, boss. C’mon, lay it on me.”

Jon hesitates, but he puts the books in Tim’s arms and Tim hefts them up to hold them against his side, following Jon deeper into the maze. It’s a familiar position, and Tim knows by the time Jon finishes he’ll have an armful of books dangerously close to dropping. 

But it’s worth it. Tim loves to watch Jon get lost in the books, forgetting his manners and that Tim is even there - but it’s something Jon never does. To see him be so unapologetically excited about something is a sight Tim wants to see more often; all the expressions that cross Jon’s face while looking at them, reading summaries and titles, debating between books before deciding to get both, or all three. It only fuels the pang inside Tim’s chest, longing for someone so unattainable, but he wouldn’t dare try going without it. Jon is too close to him for Tim to not spend time with him, or try not to love him. 

It goes like this for an hour - Tim ends up with exactly what he knew he would, and he sees the cashier’s eyebrow raise as he sets the books down on the counter. 

The fact they’re used lowers the price quite a bit - Jon enjoys the wear and tear of used books, as long as they’re readable - but Jon still winces at the price. 

“I- uh…” Jon quickly flicks through the books, “I’ll get rid of some.”

Tim frowns, then reaches out and stops him. “Hey, no. I’ll pay for some.”

Jon shakes his head. “No, it’s alright, Tim. You don’t have to.”

Tim pulls Jon’s hands gently away from the books, nodding at the cashier. “Consider it my gift to you. It’s almost the holidays, anyway.”

Jon looks up at him. Tim enjoys the slight reddish flush to his dark skin, the way he glances away. “Thank you, Tim,” he says quietly. 

Tim smiles. “No problem, boss.”

Jon rolls his eyes at the nickname, but he turns to the books as they’re paid for and bagged and a slow smile spreads across his face. Tim’s heart pangs again, and he turns to lean back against the counter, trying to ignore the warmth filling him. 

It’s useless, obviously. Tim fails to push the warmth away, and it only grows when Jon looks back at him, holding his bag of books and with his eyes lit up in excitement, a small smile curling his lips. “Where to next?”

Tim stares at him, silently cursing himself and the way he falls in love so easily, how he never seems to get tired of Jon’s beauty. He clears his throat, caught suddenly off guard. “Uh- anywhere you want. I don’t have any specific place in mind,” he says quickly. 

Jon glances out of the bookshop window, at the light, drifting snow that’s started to fall. “We could just walk, then?”

Tim smiles. “Sure, boss,” he says, a bit quieter and fonder than he meant to. Jon’s gaze turns curious and he tilts his head a little. 

Tim clears his throat again, looking away from Jon. “Yeah, uh- let’s go.” 

Jon starts walking towards the door. Tim follows - and halfway there, he flicks up the hood of Jon’s coat. 

Jon lurches forward a little with the jerky motion of it, and his free hand flies to his head. “Tim-“

“Don’t you dare say you don’t want it,” Tim interrupts mockingly sternly. “You run cold as an icicle, and I’m sure my warmth is not going to be enough.” He smirks. “Plus, gotta live up to your chat name, don’t you,  _ cute one _ ?”

Jon hangs the bag off of his wrist and shoves his hands in his pockets, pushing open the bookshop door. “I hate you,” he says, without any real heat to it. 

Tim catches the door and laughs, following Jon outside into the drifting snow. 


	2. love run, for all the things you’ve done

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> have some pining y’all 😔 I made myself sad

“You know, for someone who hates the cold, you love the snow,” Tim remarks, amused. Jon’s hood fell off a few minutes after they left the bookshop and neither Jon nor Tim has fixed it. Jon, currently, has one hand held out and is watching the light snow drifts as they fall and melt almost immediately on his hand, head tilted just a little. Tim finds it incredibly endearing, and likes the dusting of white in Jon’s hair alongside the streaks of gray and dark brown. 

“It’s pretty,” Jon replies shortly, dropping his hand and wiping the water off on his coat. They’d dropped the books off in Tim’s car after leaving the bookshop, and now Jon’s eyes are darting around, looking for the next shop to go in. Tim doesn’t have any ideas, and he’d rather see Jon enjoy himself, so he doesn’t put in any input. 

“It’s cold, is what it is,” Tim says. “And I thought snow was one of those pesky weather things that greatly inconvenienced you? You know, gets in your glasses, on papers, et cetera.”

Jon rolls his eyes. “ _ Sometimes  _ I like how it looks.”

Tim leans down, picking up a clump of snow in his bare hand, falling back just a little behind Jon. “Really?” he asks. 

_ “Yes,  _ Tim-“

Jon cuts off as Tim throws the clump - it’s not a snowball, and mostly falls apart as he throws it, but a sizeable amount lands in the junction between Jon’s neck and his coat, half falling down his coat and half falling over the fabric. 

Tim bursts into laughter as Jon’s shoulders hunch up and his hand flies to where the snow landed. He whirls around to face Tim, biting back a smile even as his tone is scolding. _ “Tim!” _

Tim grins. “You said you liked the snow, boss,” he says through laughter, and only laughs harder when Jon’s face attempts and fails to stay serious, mouth twitching in barely hidden smiles. 

It’s a few minutes, but eventually Jon turns around, straightening his back, and keeps walking. “Fine,” he says calmly. 

Tim’s laughter fades and he follows Jon, a little skeptical. “That’s not scary at  _ all,”  _ he says sarcastically. “I sure don’t expect any sort of retribution for that in the  _ near future,  _ when I  _ least expect it.” _

Jon raises his chin. “It’ll be no one’s fault but your own, Tim.”

Tim grins. “So you’re admitting you’ll get me back for it.”

“Yes. You don’t know when, or how.”

Tim looks at Jon, nodding slowly. “I see how it is,” he says teasingly. Jon’s gaze eventually slides to him sidelong and he raises an eyebrow. Tim’s smile widens and he tilts his head back and laughs, Jon’s eyes still on him and one eyebrow still raised. 

Jon looks back in front of him. Tim’s laughter slowly dies down, until they’re walking in a warm, comfortable silence. Tim can’t keep a smile from his face, and he can’t keep himself from looking over to Jon every few minutes. 

There’s snow dusting his hair, dots of white among the gray and brown streaks, powdering all along his coat. He looks generally warm compared to the gray-white of the snowy day, his skin a warm brown and his eyes dark as they scan the street ahead. Tim is reminded of the sort of warmth you get around a fireplace - he thinks of days in the Archives before Christmas spent sitting around the round table in the corner and exchanging gifts, drinking tea made by Martin and watching movies picked out by Sasha. 

Tim simply enjoys the afternoon. They have nowhere they need to be and the snow isn’t falling hard enough to be an issue; it’s not cold enough to be unbearable, either. It’s  _ nice,  _ is a word Tim would use to describe it - and so would Martin, he thinks with a small smile. 

It’s almost painful, how nice it is. Tim knows how hard he’s fallen for Jon ever since he first met him in research, and he knows he’s fallen for Sasha, and he knows there’s a one in a million chance that they’re both like he is, willing to take multiple lovers, or let him take multiple lovers. He’s sure that Jon isn’t straight, or at least has a  _ very  _ strong suspicion, but him? Tim doesn’t know what to do with romantic relationships. He can flirt with the best of them, but he’s entirely out of his depth if it goes any deeper. And he’s not entirely sure they’d want him, anyway. 

He ignores the pain in his heart, looking at Jon as they walk, wanting to press close to him and kiss him and tell him he loves him and- so many other things that he really shouldn’t think. But he wants Jon, he knows this. 

And he can’t have him - not now, not ever. Jon is as untouchable as he makes his image to be, having only ever been in a relationship with Georgie Barker and that not having worked out. He’s not a  _ people person,  _ and Tim is, even on the best of days,  _ too much.  _

He knows there’s a softer side to Jon, he knows he’s not all that cold and distant, but Tim also knows there’s still something locked off inside him. Something that makes him so untouchable, unapproachable in a way that makes Tim afraid to tarnish what they have. 

Tim doesn’t date. He flirts, and fucks sometimes, but he doesn’t date. That’s how it’s been, that’s how it will be. With Jon and with Sasha and with everyone else. 

“Tim?”

Tim focuses back on Jon’s face, wide, dark eyes narrowed on him, head tilted a bit in confusion. It’s adorable, and Tim shoves that thought out of his mind. “Yeah?”

Jon frowns, his brow furrowing. “I’ve said your name three times.”

_ Oh.  _ Tim almost wants to laugh, at how easily he got caught up in thinking about how he couldn’t have Jon, the same way he does thinking about if he could. He rubs a hand behind his neck. “Sorry. Got a bit distracted.” He forces his mouth up in a smirk. “Thinking about your evil plans for revenge.”

Jon’s eyebrows raise and he just rolls his eyes, taking Tim’s wrist and turning to pull him towards an ice rink ahead. “Come on, they have ice skating and I haven’t gone in  _ ages _ -“

“ _ Boss!”  _ Tim asks dramatically, one hand over his chest in a shocked motion. “You have  _ fun? _ Who would’ve thought, the great Jonathan Sims-“

Tim gets abruptly cut off by a puff of snow to the face, in which he realizes he’s been gesturing dramatically with  _ two  _ hands, one wrist decidedly not held by one Jonathan Sims, and that said Jonathan Sims has used those hands to pick up snow and - throw it so now it’s falling down his shirt. And all over his face, and hair, and-

“Are you  _ laughing?”  _ Tim asks as he wipes the snow off his face. “Laughing at my  _ suffering _ ?”

Jon is standing there grinning, and his hand comes up to his mouth as his head drops, quiet laughter escaping him even as he tries to hide it. 

Tim crosses his arms and tries not to shiver at the snowflakes currently stuck down his shirt and on his back. He bites back a smile. “I cannot believe you’d betray me like this, Jon,” he says, as deadpan as he can. 

Tim lasts for all of five seconds as Jon only starts shaking harder, his hand still up to cover his mouth, and Tim’s lips curl in a small smile, then a larger one, and eventually he’s almost laughing himself. 

_ God,  _ Tim thinks, with a slight note of sadness,  _ I’ve really fallen, haven’t I? _

Jon looks up, his hand gesturing as he speaks, still grinning. “No, you- you were- just  _ standing  _ there, and I- I thought it’d be a great idea, you know, to- to just-“ he waves his hand at Tim’s face and then keeps grinning, laughing silently. 

Tim can’t bite back his smile. “Hm. Yeah, well, next time you ask me to do something for you, boss, see if I do it.”

Tim starts walking, and Jon gives a slight gasp behind him, catching up to him. “You wouldn’t dare.”

Tim’s grin widens. “Watch me.”

Jon is quiet for a moment, and Tim almost looks over at him before, in his most deadpan, professional voice-

“As your superior as Head Archivist of the Magnus Institute, Tim Stoker, I-“

Tim laughs loudly and suddenly, waving one hand at Jon. “No, no- stop, stop, you never use my full name and at this point I’ve joked about it far too much to actually take it seriously. Try again, boss.”

Jon drops his hand and looks at him. “ _ Really? _ ”

Tim grins. “I’ve made making fun of you a part-time job, Jon, don’t you know this by now?”

Jon rolls his eyes and hums. “Full-time, more like. You do that more than your actual work,” he grumbles under his breath. 

“You love me, though,” Tim says, and winces at his word choice. 

He’ll get to hear him say it - even if it isn’t true like he means it. He can have this piece of fiction. 

Jon looks back at him, still  _ somehow  _ grumpy even as his dark eyes warm with fondness and annoyance at once, and he turns back, raising his chin as he continues to the ice rink. “Maybe,” he says, entirely seriously. 

Tim will take it - he follows, letting himself love Jon and knowing he can’t have him. He’ll take a ‘maybe,’ and bottle up Jon’s laughter in his mind for the bad days, and keep Jon’s grin in a photograph he can always look at and thumb over the edges of. 


End file.
